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Baltic Ave.

I am as open  
a house  
as my home life allows  
 
right now  
 
I am in the type of heat
that makes me choose words
in a careful way
that poetry hates  
 
my hand
fat
broken from the weight
of unwanted transparency  
will hang a cowards clumsy  
throbbing through distraction
 
the characters are writing
their own lines  
and the dialogue
is spit shining the silver
on the back of the mirror
that the director denies
 
I have the set so near perfect  
that I am considering  
letting the first few rows die
when it falls on them
rather than
scrapping it
starting over
and not skimping on the bolts
that brace its backbone
Written by lightbaron
Published | Edited 30th Sep 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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